//------------------------------//
// Hurricane of Pink and Purple 
// Story: Feather of Days Past ~ The Old and New 
// by Dennet 
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Chapter I


As much as he disliked parties consisting of more than three ponies, Big Macintosh found himself strangely comfortable, sitting peacefully in the corner of Books and Branches. Some part of him was still puzzled - what notion would push Twilight Sparkle to actually, willingly, host a Pinkie Party over at her precious library?

That's right. Pinkie.

With a sigh, he glanced over to the middle of the room where a considerable number of revellers had gathered in dance. He could see Cheerilee peeking from the crowd as she jumped and twirled around. He knew well enough that little Cheery was a party pony. They've been friends since forever after all.

Nevertheless, the tune wasn't too loud for his tastes, and the already opened "Astronomer's Almanac to All Things Astronomy" looked all but too inviting. He's been reading the book with interest, studying mouth-drawn graphs of the sky. When he had a little free time back at the farm, especially near dusk-time, he would perch himself underneath an apple tree and just gaze at the night sky. Mac found it charmingly relaxing.

Relaxation was something he desired more than anything now. The entire day had been more than confusing for the poor stallion. First, he was set up on an rather awkward... "date" with his old friend he hadn't really talked with for a long time. Just like that, all of a sudden. And then Sweetie Belle brought them those strange drinks. What followed was darkness, as if something hit him harder on the head than in reality it should.

Just to add insult to (presumed) injury, he woke up in a pit on a feathered mattress.

With Cheerilee.

In a wedding veil.

Much of the awkwardness had been since put aside, though something in him still disagreed with giving the Cutie Mark Crusaders his chores. With that trio, something was always bound to go wrong, and his entire day so far had been a testament to that theory.

His shame was supposed to be put to rest at that very moment, as he walked his friend to her house like any gentlecolt should. Unfortunately, it seemed fate had other plans for him as the pair was ambushed out of the blue by none other than the pink, puffy-maned menace. How she knew about the whole ordeal he dared not to think, but in the end, they both got invited to what Pinkie had called "Glad-You're-Back-To-Yourselves-And-Didn't-Do-Anything-Silly" Party.

And you don't reject Pinkie's party invitations.

Luna had already raised the moon hours ago, and from the quick glance he took outside the window, midnight was approaching. Normally, he'd have spent the customary time at the party, and then he would be able to excuse himself back to the Acres without upsetting anypony in particular. Tomorrow was going to be busy day, and even a stallion like him required his rest.

"Hi there Mackie-Wacky-Smacky!!"

And with these simple words, all of his plans shattered, were buried and exploded. Twice.

The music suddenly changed to something much too lively for Big Mac, and time felt slowed down to a crawl. Pinkie Pie, the bane of his social existence, had finally found him. Still, when he thought about it, it had taken her a remarkably long time just to peer over at his corner.

"Oooh, you promised you won't do what you're doing now you!" she looked at him with eyes full of tears. Alligator tears, no doubt.

"This party is JUST for you, Mackie! How can you do such a thing to me? You promised to have fun, just like everypony else, you big lug you! C'mon! Get up! We're getting you to dance!" her attitude shifted between feigned depression and excitement like a river during the scheduled downpour. Mac's mind grasped for a good excuse, his eyes slightly shifting left and right trying to hook an idea.

"Eeyup," he drawled. Nope, nothing. If anything, mentioning Cheerilee would just make Pinkie demand him to dance specifically with her and probably embarrass them both. He heaved himself up slowly, saying his inner farewells to the Almanac. And he only just reached the interesting part about the Canis Major constellation.

"Oh, look at you, you biggie-wiggly you. You can't dance like that, you're all too stiff! Silly, let me find something just for that. Stay here, auntie Pinkie will be back with just the thing for you!"

He blinked, and she was gone. Big Mac was unsure of what would happen specifically, but doom was certainly part of the package.

He dropped himself down quickly and turned the page back to the one he found the book open on earlier that day. Twilight was probably studying something for herself, and it would be plain rude to just shift the page like that.

"I'mh bhaaaaaackh! Mhisshed mhe?!" the pink menace bounced up and down towards Mac, a sense of dread overwhelming the rather calm stallion. She was holding something in her mouth. A small glass vial, half-filled with a strange, purple-blue bubbling liquid. It glowed faintly, too. He wasn't an expert on drinks and liquids aside from apple cider, but he was sure that was not something one should ingest.

She dropped the thing on the ground and held it with her front hooves firmly as she used her mouth to uncork the concoction. A strong aroma of mushrooms and herbs assaulted his nostrils. He had to shake his head and breathe out rather harshly at first. Strangely enough, Pinkie was unfazed by the odour. She took a step... bounce back and nodded at the vial.

"Come on Mackie, drink up!"

He slowly heaved his massive frame closer, lowering his head down for better inspection. All in all, looking at the thing from this perspective, it did look similar to the punch on the other table. But it's still glowing, and the smell is wrong. He probably shouldn't. His mind was telling him not to. His body was repulsed by it. All the signs in the heavens and  on the earth were telling him not to do it.

"What are you waiting for? You prooomiiissseeed."

All but one, that is.

Reluctantly, he put his mouth around the top of the bottle and pulled himself up, drinking the liquid, hopefully, in one go.

His taste buds were instantly assaulted by the most abhorrent taste he'd ever felt on his tongue. It was almost as bad as that one time when Applejack swapped his cider with one made from rotten apples a couple of years ago. Still, Pinkie pleaded, and he would oblige.

Breaking his usual stoic, uncaring expression, Mac visibly cringed for a second. He gulped another lump of the strange substance down his throat. He noticed Pinkie looking expectantly out of the corner of his eyes. Oh how easy he was to play. She didn't even have to try, did she?

Finally, the torture ended as the last drops of the repulsive drink slid down his throat. He spat out the vial, letting the glass rebound against the wooden surface just on the verge of shattering itself. His entire body shivered as Mac swayed his head left and right.

"...I knew I should've added some cinnamon. Welp, but you're ready now! Go out there and show those ponies some real applebucking moves!" she finished, looking at Macintosh with an expectant grin.

The music changed again, this time to a more lively tune. He strolled over to the edge of the "dance floor", as much as it could be called that, and reluctantly started to shake his body left and right, sometimes rising and lowering a hoof in a perfect display of awful rhythm.

In moments like these he thanked Celestia for being born with a deep red coat. It was invaluable in helping him hide his blush. A few glances from the main crowd did not help the situation at all. He was beginning to burn up inside from all the shame. 

Warily, he turned his head around, frantically searching for the pink ball of destruction.

She was nowhere to be seen. Good. He lowered his hoof and breathed slowly in relie—

"Nu-uh-uh!" came a shriek, right from underneath his belly. Pinkie was lying on her back right below him. She shook her head in disappointment.

"You promised."

"Ee... yup."

She grinned as she rolled over like a ball, disappearing between the dancing ponies closer to the centre of the party.

The rest of the night had been most agonizing. He continued to dance for a little while, making sure Pinkie was just out of sight when he stopped. It seems the pink mare found herself another pony to stalk. Finally taking time to slow down, he felt the mixture working its way through his digestive tract. He felt slightly nauseous, shivering from time to time.

He sat down near the door, taking deep breaths. The atmosphere was becoming too much for him, too many ponies and too little space. He still didn't know what exactly Pinkie gave him, but the effect was certainly the polar opposite of what she could possibly want to achieve.

Frustrated, he peered out of the window. The moon was at its apex. Midnight had come.

Finally.

With almost impossible grace he slipped through the half-open door, letting the cold night air blow through his mane. He breathed in deeply, and sighed in relief. He could still hear the beat from inside the library. It would probably take Twilight a good half of the day to clean up the mess.

Then again, he had his own share of bothersome work. It's wasn't like he didn't enjoy ploughing the fields or bucking trees of their harvest. He'd been doing it for majority of his life. It had become a calm, welcome routine. Actions that made the gears in his mind turn when he had nothing to think about. Blissful ignorance, one might say.

As he walked, he mused about his current situation. All in all, he hated it. Stray thoughts like that were nothing but trouble. This is exactly why he was thankful for the tremendous amount of work each day. At least it was honest, down-to-earth labour. He knew himself all too well, and daydreaming was something he fought with on a daily basis.

Yet, am I really happy wit—no, no, NO. The Acres were just over the hill. He would arrive home, walk upstairs and drop himself dead on his comfortable bed.

Yes, that would do. His eyes were already getting heavy. Just a little bit more.

And tomorrow was going to be a very busy day indeed.